


A Weekend Together

by JudyDo



Category: Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, Electronic (Band), Japan (Band), New Order (Band), Pet Shop Boys
Genre: Didn't mean for this to happen, M/M, Multi, Not to be taken seriously, Oops, but here we are, crack ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10999896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudyDo/pseuds/JudyDo
Summary: The five of them don't get to see each other often, so a weekend together is precious.





	A Weekend Together

**Author's Note:**

> This ship is a joke. It's not meant to be taken seriously. I don't mean to offend anyone by this. I started it because I thought it was a ridiculous idea that could never work... and here I am trying to make it work. Have fun.

**Friday**

 

“Johnny!”

The brunette turned around, his shoulder length hair bouncing off his back as he made eye contact with the person who had called his name. He broke out into his irresistible grin at the sight of the person who had called his name, running forward across his front lawn to give the other man a hug. “Neil!” he said happily. “I thought you were getting here tomorrow?”

“I thought I’d show up early and surprise you,” Neil said, grinning back at him. John’s smiles were contagious. “Actually, Chris and I finished all we needed to with the new album yesterday, I thought we weren’t going to until tomorrow.”

“Either way, it works out for me,” John said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “How’s the album going, by the way?”

“Quite well, actually!” Neil said brightly, beaming. There was something about being around John that always made him feel a thousand times better. “I feel like we’ve really got a solid start on it.”

“That’s good. Tell Chris I said ‘hello’ when you see him on Monday.”

“For sure,” Neil agreed.

It was a Friday. They had the whole weekend together. Actually, this had been a plan in the works for quite awhile. John had just bought a new house--usually he bought large things like boats or cars with his wealth--but this time around he’d figured it was time to move out of his flat and into a place with a little more space. He’d invited the four of them out, but every time someone hadn’t been able to make it. This would be the first time in months the five of them would be all together. John couldn’t wait to see the others, although, he supposed, it would be nice to have the afternoon to catch up with Neil. He lead Neil through the house, taking him on a small tour. Neil was sufficiently impressed, as John expected him to be. John wasn’t the sort to spend money on something that wasn’t meant to impress.

“Where should I put my bags?” Neil said. 

“The master bedroom is just down the hall,” John replied.

“What, you’re not going to make me sleep in the guest bedroom?” Neil teased. “I noticed you seemed to have at least three of them.”

“And hopefully we’ll have to use none of them,” John said, giving Neil a kiss on the top of his head. People usually told Neil he was tall, but he always denied it. He was a good four inches shorter than John, after all, who was the epitome of being tall in Neil’s opinion. 

“Have you seen any of the others?” John asked, opening the door to the master bedroom. He took Neil’s suitcase and set it beside a wardrobe. 

“Just Bernard,” Neil said. “He’s really edging me on to do vocals for this new band of his, but I don’t really want to make that commitment, you know?” Neil sat down on the bed, which, just like everything else in John’s house, was impressively large. “I love him a lot, but I don’t really want to be in another band. Pet Shop Boys is already everything to me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being in multiple bands,” John said, sitting down next to him.

“If you’re talking about Power Station, then yeah, that was great for you, you needed a break. But I don’t need a break! We haven’t even released our third album yet, I don’t want other projects to get in the way of the success of Pet Shop Boys.”

“You could just do vocals for a few tracks as a guest artist,” John suggested. 

Neil hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. I’m sure Bernard will bring it up this weekend. He has a way of not being able to set aside his work life when he’s in his personal life.”

John laughed. “Bless his heart.”

“Have you seen anyone, then?” Neil said, resting his head on John’s shoulder. John smiled fondling and twirled his fingers around Neil’s curly hair. 

“I saw Mick about a week ago...” John said. “He came over and we jammed out a bit. He let me try out his fretless bass...” John laughed. “It didn’t go well.”

“When are they all coming?” 

“Bernard’s coming this evening, same with Mick. Martin wasn’t sure, but he promised he’d be here by noon on Saturday.”

“He better be!” Neil laughed a bit. “There’s fashionably late, and then there’s Martin’s type of late.”

“You’re just the opposite,” John teased. “There’s being early, and then there’s showing up an entire twenty four hours before you said you would.”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you’re disappointed,” Neil said, giving him a kiss on the nose. 

“Not at all,” John agreed, softly kissing him on the lips. Neil melted into the kiss, and the two melted into each other, their kiss soft, familiar, and warm. Time could pass, but the memory of their arms around each other, of their mouths connected in a promise of love, was something that no amount of time could make awkward. It seemed like they’d been practicing kissing everyday for the last month, and it felt that way too. 

In reality, it had been months since the two had a moment to themselves with each other. It wasn’t an easy thing, getting a moment alone. They were both busy with their own lives, lives that didn’t really intersect at all. They were both working on a new album for their own separate bands. All five of them were working on their own separate albums, actually. There was a rush to release an album in the new decade, as though something would make the album more special if there was a “90” at the end of the release date. It could be rather tiring, trying to balance their work life and their personal life. Only a month into the new year, it seemed unbearably hard to find time to come by with. The fact that they were able to come up with an entire weekend to be together, all five of them, all at once, was thrilling.

John and Neil spent the rest of the day catching up, content with doing absolutely nothing at all. It was enough just to be together. As the day closed in on them, the two made their way to the kitchen to prepare dinner, assuming Mick and Bernard would be showing up for dinner. John had just been planning to reheat a frozen pizza and microwave popcorn for the side. Neil, upon finding out about John’s plan, was horrified. He quickly searched through John’s fridge and pantry, trying to find something of more substance to prepare. 

“Neil it’s Friday night for God’s sake! You don’t have to prepare  _ vegetables _ !”

“Just because it’s the end of the week doesn’t mean we should eliminate nutrition as a priority.”

“It’s never a priority,” John groaned.

“Green beans are good, honey,” Neil said indignantly. “Just because it’s green doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

“Boiled vegetables are my worst enemy, Neil,” John said with a frown, sitting down on a kitchen chair exasperatedly. 

“No, dear, you’re your own worst enemy,” Neil said in a sing song voice. “Now if you’d like to help, you could cut up that chicken and put it on the grill. I’ll start cooking the rice.”

“I don’t remember even buying green beans!” John protested, but he started cutting the chicken as Neil requested.

“That’s because you didn’t,” Neil said. “I asked the others to make sure you at least had some vegetables, even if frozen, in your house. I assume Mick took care of that for me.”

“Neil!” 

“Oh, don’t ‘Neil’ me. Even if you won’t eat them on your own, the rest of us want to have something of nutritional value when we visit your house.”

“Which you hardly ever do,” John pointed out. 

“I guess you’ll just have to get us to come over more to eat them all for you then, hmm?” Neil said with a smile.

“You cunning devil.”

About ten minutes along Neil had put the rice in the rice cooker and John had put the chicken in the oven. The two were relaxing as the food cooked when the doorbell rang. John ran to answer the door while Neil stayed in the kitchen, to keep the green beans from burning or something of the sort. 

“Hi, Mick!” John said with a smile, opening the door to see a man with dark, long hair, sharp eyebrows, lips seemingly stuck in a smirk. A guitar case was slung around his back and he held a small duffle bag in one hand. 

Mick’s smirk widened. “Hi yourself, Johnny.” He walked inside without waiting for an invitation. “Pizza and popcorn for dinner, then?” He’d only been to John’s new house once but he already acted like he owned the place.

Johnny followed him down the hallway. The man was significantly shorter than him, but John felt himself picking up his pace to keep in stride with Mick. “No, actually, no pizza, not tonight.”

Mick stopped and turned back to John, rather confused. “You don’t know how to cook anything but pizza and popcorn, Johnny.”

“That’s not true!” John denied quickly. “I can also cook... toast!”

“Are we having toast for dinner then?” Mick said, raising one of his eyebrows. 

“Hello, Mick,” Neil said with a smile, walking into the hallway.

Mick half rolled his eyes. “That explains it. What are we having for dinner if Neil’s cooking, then? Green beans and brown rice?”

“Green beans and brown rice is a perfectly acceptable meal,” Neil said curtly, giving Mick a small frown.

“Hey, nothing wrong with it,” Mick said, raising a hand, telling Neil he didn’t mean anything of it. “I bought that bottle of hot sauce for a reason.”

“Oh that’s why there’s a bottle of hot sauce in my fridge!” John exclaimed. Mick laughed and Neil shook his head. 

“You barely noticed when I loaded groceries into your fridge,” Mick said, still laughing. “You must’ve been pretty dang hi--” He stopped abruptly and there was a silence. 

They all  _ knew _ John had a drug addiction, but some of them didn’t talk about it and some of them did. Neil was in the party who chose to act like it was getting better and John, for his part, didn’t do drugs or talk about them around Neil. Mick, on the other hand, thought of drugs as a personal choice, no matter how bad they were affecting your health. He had stopped doing them years ago himself, but it didn’t bother him that John did them. John didn’t try to hide it from him either. All in all, the four of them were split, Neil and Bernard wanting to pretend John’s problem didn’t exist and Mick and Martin not caring much either way. John was usually pretty good about keeping the walls up around Bernard and Neil, but he couldn’t help but let them down around Mick and Martin. Mick and Martin usually did a pretty good job about not talking about it around Neil and Bernard, but of course there were going to be slip ups. Neil glared at the other two men.

“I thought you were getting better, John,” Neil said rather cooly.

“I am!” John said. “I was just a little high. I was excited about seeing Mick, I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing...”

“It hardly matters now,” Mick said, obviously not ready to have Neil yell about him only a minute into his visit. “So green beans and brown rice?”

“And chicken,” Neil said. “Johnny can also cook chicken as well as toast, apparently.”

“What!”

“I know, I know, I was surprised too,” Neil said, a light smile coming back to his face. 

“You had to walk me through all the steps,” John pointed out.

“Still, it’s progress,” Mick said. “Where should I put my bags, Johnny?”

“Master bedroom,” John said. “Dinner will be ready soon, won’t it, Neil?” Neil nodded in agreement. 

“Right well,” Mick said, starting down the hallway. “Nice to see you boys, I’ll be right back.” 

That was just the way Mick was. Putting his bags away would come first, small talk would come later. 

Once Neil and John made their way back to the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. This time, Neil had John take the chicken out of the oven and went to the door himself. A few moments later, Neil reentered the kitchen with Bernard. John was poking at the green beans nervously and Mick was setting the table for four. “Hello, Mick,” Bernard said pleasantly, setting his bags in the kitchen. “Hello, John. This is a lovely house you have!”

“Thank you, Bernard,” John said, handing Neil the stirring spoon he’d been poking the green beans with. Neil graciously took it and got the green beans and rice for the meal. Bernard’s eyes lit up when he saw the meal. “Chicken and rice? Much better than what I was expecting!” Neil gave John a pointed, satisfied look, and John rolled his eyes. 

“You would’ve liked pizza and popcorn just fine,” John said defensively. 

“Just because he appreciates my cooking doesn’t mean you have to be jealous, Johnny,” Neil teased. John rolled his eyes and set the chicken on the table. 

“How have you all been?” Bernard said brightly, taking a seat at the table.

“Busy,” Mick said with a yawn. “Neil, will you put the hot sauce on the table? I want to be able to taste some _ thing _ .” Neil agreed to and set the hot sauce down on the table with the green beans and rice. 

“Oh yeah, aren’t you working on some collaboration album?” Bernard said brightly.

“ _ Lonely Universe _ is what we’ve been calling it,” Mick said, sounding bored. He served himself some chicken and immediately squirted hot sauce on it before he even had his rice or beans. “And then on top of that, there’s talking about Japan getting back together...”

“Japan getting back together?” Neil said sharply, sitting down at the table. “Isn’t that the band with that David bloke?”

“I know a lot of Davids, Neil,” Mick said, rolling his eyes.

“The Sylvia one,” Neil said. “The one with the bad voice and worse personality?”

“Neil! He’s an okay guy!” Mick said defensively.

“I get that you two are friends now, but need I remind you that he stabbed you in the back and broke your heart?” Neil said, serving himself some green beans.

“Whatever,” Mick said, taking the green beans from Neil. “I’m not even sure if Japan is getting back together or not yet, but whatever happened between me and Dave is in the past. And I miss making music with those guys for God’s sake! Besides which, it’s not like we haven’t all been collaborating with each other, just not all four of us all at once. It’ll be good to see those guys...”

Neil kind of humphed but decided not to argue with Mick on it. Bernard had been watching their argument nervously and cleared his throat, trying to think of something more positive to change the direction of the conversation towards. “How about you, John?” he said brightly. “What’s been going on in your life?”

“Uran’s workin’ on anew albu’,” John said, his mouth full of chicken.

“Johnny, love,” Neil said, trying to not sound too disgusted. “Please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Sorry.” John swallowed and turned back to Bernard. “Duran’s working on a new album,” he clarified. “Simon’s been calling it  _ Liberty _ , but I doubt that name will last.”

“What’s the expected release?” Mick asked, not sounding like he cared much either way, squirting some hot sauce onto his green beans. 

“Summer,” John said. “And we have a single we’re planning to release before that. I think Simon wrote it for Nick,” John added, a silly smile playing on his lips. 

“Are they still kind of a thing?” Mick said, taking a large sip of milk.

“Mmhm,” John says. “Though it’s certainly toned down. They haven’t told Sterling or Warren yet, so they’re trying to not be so public about it.” John looked down at his food, about to take another bite of chicken, but instead let out a shout of surprise. “Hey! Who put green beans on my plate?” Mick smirked and Bernard started laughing, while Neil flushed pink. 

“You should attempt to eat  _ some _ thing green, darling,” he muttered. “C’mon, it’s just a few, it won’t hurt you.”

“It’s my least favorite color for a reason, Neil,” John said with a frown, but he took a small bite of the greens. 

“It sounds like you and your band are just getting along great then!” Bernard added. “In case anyone is wondering, Electronic is going very well--”

“Wait, wait,” Mick stopped him. “What the hell is Electronic?”

“My new band, Mick,” Bernard said with a frown. “I sent you all a letter about it... Me and Johnny started it, since I’m taking a break from New Order and all.”

“John?” Mick said with a frown.

“He’s talking about Johnny Marr,” Neil said. 

“Didn’t you get my letter?” Bernard said, sounding slightly disappointed.

“Well, I think so, but--”

“Do you not read my letters?” Bernard exclaimed, horrified. 

“Well sure I do, I just--”

“No you don’t!” Bernard said, sounding more and more upset.

“I’m hardly home, Bernie,  _ Lonely Universe _ has got me running all over the place. I’m surprised you can find the time to write letters!”

“I always try to find time to tell you guys about my life...”

“You could just try giving me a ring on the phone instead,” Mick joked. Bernard did not smile back at him. “Aw, Bernie...”

“It’s Bernard, Mick,” he said flatly, giving Mick a small glare and then staring mopily at his dinner. Bernard was never very good at staying mad, instead he just tended to get really sad and upset. There was a silence where the other three tried to think of what to say to cheer him up. Finally, Neil spoke up.

“So how is Eletronic going then, Bernard?”

It was surprising how quickly he could bounce back. One might wonder if he was never really upset, or if he was just very good at shoving his feelings aside. “It’s going good, Neil, thanks for asking!” There was nothing bitter in his tone, Bernard couldn’t stay bitter for long. “You really should help with the vocals, it’s not too late...” he added. “We’ve got this one song, I really think I could use that Neil Tennant touch.”

“Again, I’ll think about it,” Neil said with a faint smile.

“I can play what we have so far for you this weekend!” Bernard said excitedly. “I burned a CD with a bunch of stuff we’ve been working on, I really wanted to hear your boys’ feedback.” Bernard’s work life was incredibly important to him and he just wanted to suck the others into it.

“Of course, Bernie, that sounds lovely,” Neil said. John nodded in agreement.

“If Neil won’t do vocals for you, some of the rest of us can sing too,” Mick piped up.

“Neil replied to my letter expressing interest,” Bernard said cooly. It seemed for a good second like he might actually still be mad at Mick, but instead his expression quickly lightened. “But if you’re interested you can!”

“Eh, probably not, ‘specially with Japan getting back together and all,” Mick said. Bernard seemed slightly hurt by this answer but didn’t reply. “And if Neil  _ is _ going to do it I don’t want to get in the way, that is!” he added. 

“Right,” Bernard said, his face breaking into a smile. 

The conversation went on: Neil was thinking of adopting a puppy, John was getting along just fine with their new guitarist and drummer for Duran Duran (even if they did make him feel old at times), Mick was doing a hundred things at once, and Bernard had received a rather desperate letter from Morrissey, a letter that would spark a rather lengthy story which was mostly came down to Bernard’s own speculation about Morrissey’s personal life and emotional state.

At that point in the evening they had moved into the living room, a gracious space that could have easily fit three times as many people as were seated there. Rain could be heard pattering against the window as the four situated themselves in the room. John had filled the room with several large, puffy chairs and two couches. They were made out of cushions that sunk down when you sat on them--something John himself adored. “They might not be the most expensive couches,” he had said, “but they sure are the comfiest.” This wasn’t, however, everyone’s experience. While Bernard had sunk into a red, fleece covered chair in a pillowy bliss, Mick kept fidgeting uncomfortably on the couch he was sharing with Neil. Neil himself seemed to be sinking into couch, like it was devouring him whole and he was too polite to say anything about it. Quite satisfied in his own cushiony situation, Bernard went on telling the story of Morrissey’s apparent mental snap upon finding out Johnny Marr would be his collaborator in Electronic. 

“So  _ then _ , after I sent him a letter back, explaining that Johnny was indeed just a friend and I had no business engaging with him romantically or coming in the way of any affairs between those two--” 

Bernard was cut off by a knock on the door and an incessant ringing of John’s doorbell. The four looked at each other uneasily. 

“Martin isn’t coming until tomorrow,” John announced. 

“But I was here early...” Neil reminded him.

“It’s eleven thirty at night, for God’s sake! Nothing good comes from the doorbell ringing at eleven thirty!”

The doorbell ringing didn’t stop.

“I agree with Mick, there’s nothing good that comes from a doorbell ringing this late,” Bernard said nervously. 

“We should go to the door,” Neil disagreed firmly, but no one stood up.

_ Ring. Ring. Ring-i-t-ring-ring-ring. _

“Maybe we should just go to sleep...” Bernard suggested nervously.

“But if it’s Martin...” John said, suddenly unsure.

Neil stood up, setting down his drink on a small table situated between the couch and one of the chairs. “I’m just going to peer through the windows,” he said. “Just in case.”

“Well then I’m coming too,” Mick said suddenly, standing up quickly. “If there’s some crazy man out there, I’d feel better knowing you’re not by yourself. Plus, people generally think my face is intimidating.”

“I’m just peering through the window,” Neil said again, but he didn’t argue with Mick accompanying him. The two started to leave the room when John shot up from his chair and ran over to the other two. 

“I’m coming with,” he said quietly. 

Bernard shot the other three a desperate look and then ran over. “I really didn’t want to do this...”

“You don’t have to,” Neil reminded him gently, but Bernard shook his head.

“Better come along than be alone with a crazy man on the loose,” he said. John nodded in agreement and grabbed Bernard’s hand, squeezing it tight. 

_ Ring. Ring! Ring-i-t-ring! Ring! _

Neil poked his head in the window, going on his tiptoes to get eye level with the window, which, just like everything in John’s house, was too big for a regular sized person.

“Who is it?” Bernard asked, hiding behind Mick and John. 

“Open the door,” Neil said urgently, backing away from the door.

“Is it Martin?” Bernard demanded, but before his question could be answered, Mick undid the lock on the door and pulled it open.

“Took you long-a-god-damn enough,” the man in the doorway slurred, stumbling into the house. “Is’s raining, yaknow.” 

“You’re early,” Mick said dryly, stepping aside so the man could make his way into the house. He was shirtless, wearing a damp cowboy hat, long flapper pearls, and shiny black pants that seemed to cling to his skin while resisting the rain at the same time. 

“S’s nice ta see youu, Mickee,” the man slurred, tripping into Mick and leaning on him.

“Um...” Bernard said nervously.

“What the hell happened to you!” John burst out.

“S’sats right,” he said, grinning crookedly, his voice weary and muddy. “Hell ‘appened to me.”

“Someone get something warm for him to wear,” Neil ordered. “And drink too. I have to imagine a little tea would do him good right now.”

“It’ll take more than tea to clear his system,” Mick said.

“Bernard, you go boil some water, the kettle is already on the stove,” John ordered. “I’ll go get some pjs from my room.” The two swiftly parted.

“Don’t leave awhl so fast...” the man said almost desperately, watching the two go.

“They’re going to come back,” Neil said, his voice emotionless. “Perhaps you’d like to explain why you’re so early, Martin?”

“Early and drunk,” Mick pipped in unhelpfully. 

Martin looked at the two blankly for a second and then burst into tears. “Pleaze don’t yell a’ mee...” he kind of whinned. “I though’ yo’all would be nice ta me...”

“We’re not yelling,” Neil said patiently. “I just want to know what happened. Can you tell us what happened, Martin?” Mick shot Neil an annoyed look--Neil tended to use condescending tones to get people to explain things to him--but Martin launched into a story, not noticing Neil’s tone, condescending or otherwise.

“We finishe’  _ Violadder _ ,” Martin slurred. “We finishe’ it an’ I hate it, I hate it, but te boys wouldn’ lissen to me, an’ everyone was tellin’ Alan wha’ a good idea, a good idea he had, dat is’s our bes’ album yet an’--” Martin stopped and took a shaky deep breath. “An’ it may’ve be! Bu’ I wanned ta stick to te ol’ sound, I did, I did--”

“No you didn’t,” Mick interrupted. “We all heard how you were excited about the new things you were trying--”

“I did!” Martin interrupted him in return. “We all lissen’d to the one track, an’ it sounds all wrong, I lefd the boys and I wen’ home bu’ then I was so sad! I-I trie’ to get my mind not all bad, but I’m a bad person and I couldunt do it. Ten I remembere’ we were all meeding at John’s house bu’ I was dizzy and I couldunt drive so I calle’ a taxee an’ the taxee picke’ me up an’ drove me here.”

“And when, in the midst of all that, did you get drunk?” Mick said.

“Mick!” Neil said sternly. “That doesn’t matter now. We just need to get him taken care of, we can address that tomorrow.”

“If he’s not too hungover,” Mick said. At that comment, Martin burst into tears. 

“Mick, if you can’t be polite, go make tea with Bernard or something,” Neil snapped. “Or see if John’s found any pajamas, Martin must be freezing.”

“I’mh naut  _ tha’ _ cold,” Martin said unconvincingly. 

“I heard someone say ‘pajamas,’” John said, lightly running down the hallway. He held up a hand holding an unfolded mass of cloth. “I got them.”

“Would you like John to help you get into some pjs, Martin?” Neil said gently. 

“I can do it myssehl,” Martin said, taking a step away from Mick and staggering into John. Neil nodded at John, telling him to take care of Martin. John nodded back. 

“Here, how about we get you a towel and dry you off,” John said, leading Martin down the hallway. Mick and Neil followed behind the other two, but turned into the kitchen to check on Bernard. Bernard was sorting through a pile of tea packets he’d found in John’s cupboard rather frantically.

When the two came into the kitchen, he addressed them immediately. “W-what kind of tea should I brew? Not caffeinated, right? That would just make him more crazy? Should it be flavored? Fruity? Minty? Just tea flavored tea? Why are there so many options!?”

“Calm down!” Mick said. Neil grabbed a tea packet and started brewing it in the boiling water Bernard had prepared. “See? Neil’s got it all covered.”

Bernard looked like he was about to start on another blubbery rant, but instead stepped forward and hugged Mick tightly. “I’m just so nervous!” he admitted. “People under the influence always give me an unsettled feeling...”

“It’s just Martin,” Neil said calmly. “He won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that!” Bernard cried out. “He’s not himself!”

“Frankly, I think he’s more worried about us hurting him than hurting us himself right now, if it makes you feel better,” Mick said wryly.

Bernard frowned, although his tone did become less frantic. “I wish he would stop drinking...”

“He can’t just  _ stop _ ,” Mick said, getting a teacup for Neil to pour the tea into. “It’s not like that, Bernard. I’m sure he wants to, but it’s just something he slips into. You’ve got to understand that.” Bernard frowned and looked at the ground. He didn’t want to understand that. 

“I’m sure he’s getting better, Bernie,” Neil said, pouring the tea into the teacup. “It sounds like he was really upset with their album release and he didn’t know what to do with himself.” He frowned. “That doesn’t make it okay, but it doesn’t mean he’s always abusing alcohol like that.”

“He’ll sort it out if he wants to,” Mick said flatly, grabbing the teacup from Neil. “C’mon, let’s go give this to him. Then I’m going to bed.”

“Wait!” Neil cried. “I haven’t put a sugar cube in his tea yet!”

“God, Neil, you don’t have to baby him!” Mick shouted. His mild irritation with the other two had been boiling into anger for the last ten minutes and he had finally stopped biting his tongue. “How do you even know he  _ wants _ sugar in his tea? You know he can just grow up and drink tea straight up like a man, for God’s sake! Just because he’s drunk doesn’t suddenly make him a child!”

Neil didn’t say anything for a moment, initially looking shocked and then pursing his lips. Once Mick finished with his speech, Neil paused, letting Mick’s harsh words have a second to fade away before speaking. “He’s personally told me in the past he likes one sugar cube in the past, thank you very much.” He carefully plopped a sugar cube in the cup Mick was holding, watching it dissolve with a small frown. “I’d rather like to go to bed, too, once Martin is all settled.”

Bernard looked at the other two unhappily. “I guess I’ll go to sleep, too,” he said, looking between Neil and Mick, half expecting another row to break out. Neil and Mick also seemed to expect one of each other to lash out at the other, holding steady eye contact with each other.

Mick finally broke the glare, turning around to head to where John and Martin were. “Let’s get Martin this tea, then,” he said, his tone dulled and tired. The three marched down the hallway, where they found Martin and John in the guest bedroom closest to the front door. Martin seemed to be relaying his story about the failure of his new album again to John. John was pretending to listen, nodding and giving him a concentrated look, although it was apparent he couldn’t really tell a word of what Martin was saying, Martin’s drunken slur now also combined with a slur of sleepiness.

“‘An, ‘an then when I trie’ to tell ‘em--” Mick cut Martin off mid-sentence with a loud “ahem.” “Mickee! Neel! Bearnie!”

“It’s Bernard,” Bernard offered quietly. Mick gave him a short glare before approaching Martin with the tea.

“We made you some tea, Marty,” he said, setting it down on the bedside table. 

“Tank you!” Martin looked like he was about to cry, he was so pleased by the sight of the tea. He took the tea from the table and took a clumsy sip. Although he spilled some of it, he seemed more pleased than upset. “Yall’re a lo’ bettar than mah ban’mades...”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” John agreed, still not catching everything Martin was saying. Martin yawned, nodding in agreement.

“Ihm tared,” he mumbled out, setting the now empty teacup back down on the beside table. 

Neil took this as a cue. “Oh my! I am rather tired, too...” He picked up the teacup. “I think I’ll just be on my way to bed, if no one has any objections.”

Martin looked like he was about to say something, but Mick spoke up first. “That’s fine, Neil, see you tomorrow morning,” he said, his tone stiff and cold. Neil nodded curtly, leaving the room swiftly. Right after he exited he poked his head back in the doorway. “John? I’m going to take the next guest bedroom down the hall, if that’s okay.” John gave him a confused nod, turning to Mick and looking at him, lost.

“What happened?” he asked, confused. 

Mick pursed his lips. “It’s nothing.” 

Bernard looked down at his hand uncomfortably. He knew it wasn’t nothing, in fact, he knew that Mick and Neil had gotten into a row, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to get into the middle of it, as hard as it was not to chip in his own bit. “I think I’ll go to bed, too,” he added hesitantly. “See you all in the morning,” he mumbled, quickly retreating out of the room.

“Ahwa, Bearnie...” Martin said sadly, watching him go.

“What happened?” John asked Mick again, his voice even more confused than before.

Mick shrugged. “It shouldn’t surprise you that some of us have different opinions than others, Johnny. Are there going to be enough guest rooms for me to have my own?” he asked. “If not, I can just sleep on the couch.”

“There’s one past my room, up the hall,” John said, feeling dizzy. 

“Thanks. Night, Johnny. Night, Marty,” Mick said, departing the room.

“They’s all gawn...”

John frowned. “They’re still here, Martin. They’ll be here in the morning.” When he turned around to see Martin reply, he found the other man had fallen asleep. “Goodnight, Martin...” he whispered, leaving the room, turning off the lights as he left.

“G’Night...” Martin muttered. John smiled and closed the door.

 


End file.
